


Sweet Sweet Connie

by SegaBarrett



Category: The Godfather (1972 1974 1990)
Genre: Domestic Violence, F/F, F/M, Gangbang, Incest, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-09-22
Packaged: 2017-12-27 08:46:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/976795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SegaBarrett/pseuds/SegaBarrett
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connie has a problem, and Sonny has a plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Sweet Connie

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own The Godfather and I make no money from this. 
> 
> Warning: This story is really weird. I had the square to fill and... this happened. I'm sorry. :) My first story for the fandom. *nervous laughter* 
> 
> Warning #2: One anti-Italian slur. And, even though it's in the tags, let me reiterate... incest. Lots of it. 
> 
> A/N: Written for kink bingo, square, "gangbang".

Santino “Sonny” Corleone didn’t know exactly what moment it was when he realized that he truly detested Carlo Rizzi.

They had actually been friends at one point; hell, in a spectacular error of judgment, Sonny had even been the one to introduce him to Connie. His little sister, his only sister. The one person he loved more than life itself. At the time he hadn’t thought much of it. Even when they’d started to see each other, to spend time around together, he hadn’t been suspicious. Connie liked to be a little spoiled. It was actually kind of endearing at first.

But then little cracks had started to appear in the façade Connie and Carlo were trying to build up. Little things that showed that everything wasn’t quite right.

It wasn’t as if Sonny was the perfect husband, so it wasn’t exactly fair to expect anybody else to be. He’d cheated on Sandra scores of times, though usually with the same woman, Lucy Mancini, and everyone knew about it, including her. However, for his faults, he’d always taken care of Sandra and the kids and he had never raised his hand to her or even insulted her. That just wouldn’t have been right.

So when he noticed that Carlo had started to cut in and tell off Connie in the middle of her sentences, to tell her to “shut up”, he had been furious.

And then the worst thing had happened. He’d come to Connie’s home to see her, to pick her up and go shopping. To spoil her. Sonny had seen the black circles around her soft brown eyes, had seen the bruises on her beautiful face and something inside him had snapped. He forgot about any desire to protect his “friend”, Carlo. He wanted blood and would not be sated until he got it.  
Beating the man to a pulp had gotten Sonny’s blood racing in a way he hadn’t thought still possible. He had always loved a good fight, that was true, but most of the time his opponent was just someone of equal strength who had pissed him off. At the end of the fight they would shake hands, or at least give that gaze of male acknowledgement that had been around seemingly since time had begun. 

Not this time. He was not going to settle for anything short of utter humiliation and submission. Carlo had hurt his little sister. 

He had driven immediately over to where he knew Carlo would be, and he had proceeded to beat the little shit within an inch of his life. 

But that hadn’t been enough. When he had returned home from delivering that beating, he was wrought with thoughts of how he couldn’t allow Connie to remain in that house. But his father would not interfere – that was the tradition. And what could he do short of killing the man? Connie could divorce him… but what would become of her then? She had a baby on the way, after all. What would become of sweet Connie?

Which left Sonny with one choice and one choice alone. If Carlo and tradition wouldn’t allow Connie to leave him, then Carlo would need to be the one to leave. Sonny knew that Carlo wasn’t faithful, but trying to find one of Carlo’s sleazy girlfriends that he liked enough to actually leave the marriage for would be too much of an undertaking. Plus, some stubborn part of that asshole seemed to think that if he stuck around long enough, Vito would be interested in giving him more than the little bookie operation he already had.

Sonny scratched his neck and tried to figure out what to do. There had to be an answer. 

He lay down in bed and figured that some good old fashioned sleep would help him come to a solution. That usually worked – that, or talking to Michael. Maybe that was another option. Michael had just gotten back from his safety exile in Italy and he was just a phone call away. 

But somehow Sonny wasn’t quite sure that he wanted to burden him with this. Especially once he closed his eyes and some plans that didn’t sit quite right flew on to his mental table.

It was probably more of a dream than an actual plan at first. He knew that it was wrong and yet, there was a strange rightness to it. The thought of a time before Connie had been married, when they had been inseparable, when for just a second a friendly game between siblings had turned into… something, something where Connie’s hand had touched his thigh and for just a second she had locked his gaze. Something had awoken in him that he refused to accept, until now. Until he had to let go of that hold and slip off into sleep.

When he awoke, it was as if the idea had been shaken out of his subconscious and was planted right in the forefront of his mind.

It would be crazy to ask Connie to do this now. Maybe after her son was born, maybe after… It wasn’t as if Carlo was ever going to change. He had to pull her out of there one way or another, whether he was going to get help with it or not.

***

Carlo didn’t stop his transgressions or his violence. If anything, it only got worse, a slippery slope that kept increasing. Sonny’s hand was being forced. 

“Connie,” he called to her one day. They were eating across from each other, and she had been silent thus far. Dark glasses were hiding what was obviously another black eye courtesy of Carlo. Sonny wanted to kill him. He would kill him.

But first he’d have to lure him out. Make Carlo angry enough to be the one to make the first move.

“Have you ever thought about… I… Listen, Connie. You know that you’re my sister, and I love you, and I’d never suggest that you do anything to harm your own self-respect.”

She looked up at him.

“Of course, Sonny. I know.”

“But… desperate times really call for desperate measures.”

Connie looked at him. 

“What kind of desperate measures are we talking about, exactly, Sonny?” 

***

Sonny and Connie quickly decided that Vito was never, ever going to find out about this. Admittedly, he hated Carlo as much as anyone else, so it wasn’t like he would actually believe him if he told him the tale. Hell, he might even kill him on the spot and save everyone else the trouble.

There was a bed, and it was warm, and Connie’s black curls were shining despite the dim light. They pressed their noses together. They were careful with each other, gentle, even though this was wrong in so very many ways.

They were probably both going to hell for this, but neither one cared. 

Connie took off the sunglasses and Sonny looked past the black rims to gaze into the deep brown eyes, the ones that filled with love for him, in a new way this time. In a way that heated up the room, that burned it like a hearth. Like something that had always been there but had never been acknowledged.

Sonny pushed in, and Connie threw her head back. They were one; like a ying and yang, that had always been meant to be together. Connie had been a twin, that was true, but maybe Sonny was her other half. It was an odd thought, one that didn’t totally make sense, but one that somehow occupied them both as they moved in a rhythm neither set, but both knew.

***

Michael was next, shy and careful and looking over his shoulder like this was one of Sonny’s jokes gone far too far. But if there was one thing he knew by now, it was that when it came to Connie, Sonny was deadly serious.

They didn’t push it that far, they only laid together, with Michael’s long fingers pushing against her heat and neither speaking. He’d always been the quiet one, the studious one. He knew how to watch, how to observe and how to react. He knew what she needed and gave it without complaint and without protest.

Michael and Connie knew how to make it work.

***

Kay probably rationalized it by saying that she was part of some kind of new wave of the women’s rights movement, but really she had wanted to touch Connie since the moment she saw her. Of course, that’s not one of those things that you tell your boyfriend, that you’d really love to curl up in bed next to his sister and feel her breasts rub against your own, so she had kept it to herself.

But now she could indulge it, all under the auspices of helping Michael out. It was the best of both worlds as she pressed her lips to the sweet spot in between Connie’s thighs, ran her tongue against it, made her rock and moan the way only another woman knew how. She couldn’t even want reciprocation, because just seeing the way the other woman reacted was enough to make her leak and drip, make her more keyed up than she had been in recent memory, in all the frantic sex she’d had with Michael since he got back from the trip he couldn’t talk about with something dark behind his eyes that she was sure had a name, but not one anyone could dare to speak.

She could have lain there all day, letting her soft blonde hair mingle with black, cuddling close and breathing in each other’s scent like it was the most normal thing in the world. And maybe it should have been.

***

Connie had always been curious about Tom Hagen, since the day Sonny had brought him home like a lost puppy and had asked if they could keep him, and he’d always been curious about her, too. She was forbidden fruit, as dark in features as he was light, and they’d let their hands touch a little too long more than once before turning away, smiling, making sure that everyone realized it was okay, they were brother and sister. Pretty much. Basically.

Now she was touching him in places that she’d only ever thought about late at night, when she had looked around her bed and made sure that no one could somehow catch her thoughts, maybe if she breathed too loud or something in her eyes or face gave away what crossed her mind.

He was inside, hard and fast, and he was right. He was gentle and good and right and Connie felt something she wasn’t sure she had a word for but if she had to choose… happiness. Contentment.

***

Carlo found out, which was of course the plan all along. The private detective on Sonny’s payroll kept all the photos and simply showed them to the cuckold husband, who immediately threatened Connie’s life and in turn found his own threatened in a multitude of much more horrible ways.

He was sent on his way with the clothes on his back and the stigma of having dumped his pregnant wife because he couldn’t keep a lid on his own affairs and wanted to get milk from everywhere without having to actually buy the cow. People say the Corleones let him off easy and he wasn’t heard from again; he probably went back to wherever he had come from and Connie… and sweet Connie…

***

“I thought I told you I expected to see this mess cleaned up by the time I got back home.” 

Connie snapped out of the story she’d told herself, the yarn she’d woven where people saw her and wanted her, desired her. She could picture their thoughts when they thought of her, far too idealized to be the real ones, which were probably of pity and exasperation after years of excuses for Carlo’s cruelties. But the fantasy she’d made up in her head… Where had it come from? It was so illicit and so wrong, crossing lines she wouldn’t dare to ever speak aloud, but then why did it feel safer, more comfortable than this life she was living now? 

“Carlo. I’m sorry… I was trying to…”

“I don’t give a shit what you were trying to do, you guinea brat,” Carlo snapped. “I’m going out again. And if this isn’t sparkling clean when I get in, you’ll regret it for a week.” He turned to walk out the door, then slowly pivoted and turned to her with a victorious smirk. “While you were daydreaming over there, the police called. Sonny’s dead. Maybe now you’ll see that things are going to change around here.”

**Fin**


End file.
